Threads 147-Old Ways 2

Ling Qi pondered what to say. It occurred to her that the master of this old blade was an explorer.

“Honored Ancestor,” Ling Qi said, “before we leave you to your rest, might you have any wisdom on the lands beyond the Wall? Your wielder is well known for his travels.”

“Those days were ending afore we departed the blood-slick sea and left the treasure fleet behind,” the sword spirit murmured.

Beside her, Meng Dan looked fit to burst at holding back the questions on his lips.

“Still, can it be true that such a man never ventured far?” Ling Qi pressed. “We will be journeying there, or close at least. Any knowledge you have to give would be helpful.”

The swirling mists of the graveyard thickened around them, and silence answered her words. Carefully, Ling Qi prepared the weaves of qi that might aid in their flight if need be, and she felt the others doing the same.

Eventually, the grinding voice answered. “The endless wind upon the frozen plain is a blade, shearing away chaff. It is a place where the sun shows not his face for weeks and months, and the dark is full of terrors that cannot be cut. It is a place of obstinate refusal of inevitability where each blade of grass clings to life with vitality beyond the limits of its frame. It is a place where the Law of Man does not rule supreme. Ware the demon lights in the southern sky and do not linger under their gaze. That is all a blade can say.”

Ling Qi shuddered at the spiritual weight that hung in the air, carving images into her mind’s eye. She saw: wind that would cut immortal flesh; a plain of hardy grass stretching out beyond sight, interrupted only by blots of huddled black trees; a sky with no sun where the moon was wan and far away and the stars shone cold; and a wall of fiery peaks far, far to the south, beyond which a curtain of wicked daemon lights winked and flowed in an alien sky.

The pressure let up, and Ling Qi took a sharp breath, the sound loud in her own ears. “Thank you for your words, Honored Ancestor.”

The words and visions spoke to her of the depths of Zeqing’s demesne, made more cruel and hostile still. Even if they were not to descend on those hostile plains, they would need to prepare well to traverse the southern mountains.

What kind of people would live in such a place? It was a question she thought she would be pondering for some time. Still, she sensed the simmering irritation in the air and knew that their time was up.

For now.

She was going to be back here after the expedition to the south, albeit in different company.

“Thank you again for your words, Honored Ancestor,” Ling Qi said, offering a final bow. She glanced at the others and jerked her head toward the exit.

As they turned to go, however, the sword spoke again. “Child of Wildfire, what is the blade at your side?”

Cai Renxiang, who had observed the proceedings in impassive silence until then, frowned, her fingers brushing the hilt of her saber. “It is one tool among many. No more,” she answered.

The mist churned, but whether in approval or disapproval, Ling Qi could not say.

“Go,” rumbled the sword.

And so they did.

***

“I will see that we are provided with sufficient environmental gear from the underground stockpiles on our return,” Renxiang said as they stepped back into the lighter mist of the second ring.

“I had not been under the impression that the lands beyond the wall were as hostile as the western jungles or the deeplands,” Meng Dan said. “An odd oversight in the records.”

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“If clans and individuals shared their findings freely with the wider province, the world would be unrecognizable,” Xia Lin replied a touch sourly. She still seemed very unhappy with what she had seen in the graveyard.

“Still, I think that was at least productive?” Ling Qi ventured tentatively.

“It was. I have a wider view of everyone’s capabilities,” Xia Lin agreed, striding ahead. The bent space was lighter now that they were leaving, the paths direct instead of twisting.